


Mr. Thomas

by Ellie_East



Series: On the Matter of Jimmy Kent's Sexuality [1]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Homophobic Slurs, I will try to add tags as I go, Internalised Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Period Typical Homophobia, Poor Jimmy, Sex Dreams, Sexuality Crisis, Smut, Thomas doesn't be know what's going on, but I will probably nevertheless finish this, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 15:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10468038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie_East/pseuds/Ellie_East
Summary: It wasn't supposed to end like this. No. That's ridiculous. I wasn't supposed to even start let alone end. This...sin. This turmoil. This pain. But it did.And here they are.Jimmy on his side in Thomas's bed with the dark haired man settling two large hands around his smaller frame.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will probs never get finished but I just had to share the start aiiight?

Thomas went away for the week. Jimmy was fine.

Thomas returns home tonight. Jimmy will be fine.

"What ever is the matter with you Jimmy? You look as if your eyes have sunken in like a skeletons!" Jimmy likes Mrs. Hughes. He does and it was kind of her to notice he's not well, but did she really have to worry for it at such a high pitch?

Even now in the servants hall, as dim as it can get at this hour of the morning through winter, the light around them feels so bright it could split Jimmy's skull in two. With wobbly legs, the footman manages to carry himself to his chair.

Thomas returns home tonight.  
Jimmy will be fine.

"He's been into the drink last night he has," Alfred accuses from Jimmy's side. The blonde sends him a side glare but then a sudden spike of pain through what feels like his entire body trips a biting remark right off his tongue.

"Well then." Mrs. Hughes sighs with disappointment that could match Jimmy's own mother. As she takes her seat, Jimmy finally musters up a response.

"No. It's not that." The footmen's only met by varying frowns of disbelief, so he continues with a sour expression. "It isn't...at least not this time. But it bloody well will be soon if this doesn't let up."

Mrs. Hughes gives him a look that says she about to needle more out of him no matter how much he wishes she wouldn't. Then Ivy comes in with a tray of toast and beats her to it.

"If what doesn't let up?" The young girl's giddy smile quickly falls as she comes round to see his face. She nearly drops her toast tray with it if not for Alfred's quick hands. "Oh my...Jimmy! You look as if you didn't just see a ghost but you now are one yourself! You should be up in bed!"

"No," Jimmy grits from between his teeth, "that's the last place I ought to be right now."

Why won't they all just bloody well leave him alone? They're not his family. They're not his friends. They're his stinking burden.

Alright, so that's a little harsh. But harsh be damned. Jimmy's had enough of today and it isn't even past breakfast. He won't be bothered with tomorrow either at this rate.

"And I'm not bloody well sick," Jimmy pushes forward before anyone else gathering in the room can butt in their opinion, "or ill from last night's drink. I can't sleep. I've barely had a wink this week if you don't count passing out every now and then."

The sudden admission seems to stun the table, but only for a second before the thought of breakfast draws everyone's attention away again. Mrs. Hughes and Ivy seem to be the only ones still with a care for his pain.

"Well what could be keeping you up then?" The poor kitchen maid looks sick with worry. Even now she's seems to be leaning over the table toward him awaiting his answer. Why she still dotes on him, even with the hideous frown he knows he has plastered on his exhausted face, Jimmy will never know.

"Nightmares." Jimmy grumbles after a pause. He isn't going to touch a single bite of his breakfast for fear it'll come rushing back up again any minute.

"Heavens," Mrs. Hughes gasps, "whatever about?"

Jimmy doesn't need a pause to answer that question. "The worst things you could possibly imagine."

"Oh you poor thing!" Ivy cries, rather melodramatically. Which, only serves to draw the entire tables attention back to Jimmy.

A jealous Alfred is the first to speak up, "well I haven't heard you call out."

Jimmy chooses to ignore the bite in Alfred's tone. Blast the big oaf and his dumb obsession with a girl who couldn't be less interested.

"I wouldn't," Jimmy sighs, pushing away from the breakfast table. "They're...just bloody well nightmares alright. Leave it. All of you."

He knows he shouldn't be so short with them. Deep down they only care. Why, again Jimmy will never know but they do. Before he can push out the door however, his head spinning with dizziness at rising too suddenly, Mrs. Hughes calls out her final words.

"Well alright then. But if it continues you must go into the town to the see the doctor."

Jimmy stops in the door, only bothering to turn slightly to hear Mrs. O'Brien of all people, the old bat, harshly reply.

"Mr. Carson wouldn't care for a doctor's visit over a few restless nights."

"Then I shall have to make him, shan't I?" Mrs. Hughes glares the lady's maid down but doesn't wait for another unwanted reply. She knows she won't get a pleasant one. "Good. Now off to your morning duties all of you. We've dawdled long enough."

The staff all scurry past Jimmy into the hall, each with their own worried look. He feels as if he really will be sick now, even if there's nothing in his guts to come out.

Jimmy would never tell them the truth. He gave most of the honest story. He can't sleep, yes. And it really is his dreaming mind that's causing the destruction on his rest. But it's not nightmares plaguing him.

He may wake in shaking sweats. He may grip his bed cloth so tight it rips. He may find his mouth open in a silent scream. But it's not nightmares plaguing him.

It's Thomas.

And Thomas returns home tonight. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Jimmy's dreams had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean what

The first dream wasn't all that harmful. More a confusing mess of images. Jimmy was in fact happily dreaming of the supple breasts of a girl he liked in his youth heaving under his hands. He could never remember her name, but her pale chest stuck in his mind alright. In his dream he seemed to be taking her against an alley in the town, people strolling by unaware to their lust and shame. It was all rather pleasant really.

But then her gorgeous flowing locks vanished from her head, replaced by a short black cut that Jimmy couldn't quite place. Her bosom suddenly became a steady weight at his back. And then...a clock?

Jimmy had woken abruptly, mind reeling and heart hammering away in his chest. A tremoring hand went first to soothe his hair back, coming away sticky and warm. Then the other on a will of its own had fallen to the hard length in his sleep trousers. Right. He was dreaming of...a girl with lovely...features in an ally. The push and pull of her tight walls around him. Then...strange. Jimmy couldn't seem to remember what happened after that. Or why he was awoken from his bliss so callously.

He had finished himself quickly and discreetly, there in the early morning hour. He had been careful to muffle his final groan with a hand clamped over his mouth. His imagination was all the while trying and failing to run wild with a long raven haired beauty clutching his shoulders.

-

The next dream however, brought about no confusion. The memory was so well burnt into his brain by now it could have scolded him. Thomas, hot on his back and the wall so close to his front. The clock before them, even in his dream so vivid he could all but smell the light tang of its metal hands. Thomas's words were lost to him. Some blurred instructions of morning and evening. Was he to turn it in the cold or out of it?

What did that matter then? Nothing. What mattered was the feel of Thomas's strong hand guiding his own. The long slender arm easily pressed along his own then up around his shoulder. The heated tickle of the mans breath against the nape of his neck was so stifling Jimmy could swear he'd have boiled in his own suit.

But...there. Right there. Right before Thomas was pulled away by whoever it was that interrupted them. It was a sudden twitch, barely noticeable, from the front of Thomas's trousers right against the prominent swell of Jimmy's-

He nearly did wake with a shout that time. Catching himself right as he was hunched forward by his own chest. He'd kept thrusting into his pants before he could really orient himself in the land of the awake. And with those few subtle thrusts, he was torn apart.

Every inch of him was yanked impossibly closer into a huddled ball as he spurted more than he could ever remember doing so. Even in his younger days of first discovery.

Moments later, Jimmy was rushing to the bathroom to spew sick over the sink.

God help him.

-

He would have purposefully forgotten about it. He nearly did. He managed to force himself to work his twisted mind silent the next day. He barley spoke a word to anyone but Ivy. And only then it was to flirt so hard the poor girl looked as if her legs might fall off. He may have been a bit too forward once or twice however. Mrs. Patmore even chased him out of the kitchen by the end of the day with a blush to her cheeks.

It had helped that Thomas was away. Running some secretive four day errand for Mr. Carson in London of all places. The man had asked to stay the week, mentioning a few friends he might like to call in before he left. It was pushing it. But Mrs. Hughes had stuck her head into the service hall at just the right moment to insist Thomas had earned a proper break for once. She also slid in the fact that he had a few appointments with a doctor about his hand that even Thomas seemed unaware of until she sent him a purposeful stare. The look he got from Carson then would have sent any other man running for the hills. But not Thomas. Thomas stood his ground, chin held high and chest puffed out till the old man agreed with a stammer and furrowed brow.

Thomas had left the next morning. A small suitcase in hand and a smug grin on his face. Jimmy watched him stride out the back door, forcing himself away from the thought of what Thomas might get up to while he was away. He even managed it for about an hour. But then the sick and twisted ideas started hammering against all the old barriers he'd thrown up in his mind to do with Thomas's...dwellings.

What kind of people was he to visit? Men, probably. Men without wives or families. Or dear god, maybe with.

So it helped that Thomas was away. That way, Jimmy had no worry of facing him after his one little incident.

-

But it wasn't only one little incident. The next night brought with it a similar episode. As did the next. And the next. Each time, Jimmy would begrudgingly fall into his pillow, dream of Thomas merely touching him with a hint of underlying sinful purposes and Jimmy would awake with soiled pants.

And none of it made a lick of sense. When Thomas had been...seducing him Jimmy hadn't enjoyed a second of it. He had felt quite the opposite. Uncomfortable. Uneasy. Even used at some points which makes no sense either. But Jimmy would take it. He was sure that with time Thomas would lose interest or he'd snap one day and Thomas would tell him it was all honest mistake.

But that wasn't what happened was it? No. Thomas had snuck into his room. Had kissed him in his sleep like a lovesick fool or an outright pervert. His words after and the way he had tenderly reached for Jimmy made the former more obvious but...Jimmy didn't want to believe that.

Thomas was attracted to him. Which is wrong.

Jimmy wasn't attracted to Thomas. Which is right.

So what are his dreams then?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dreams continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's more but sorry this one isn't as well edited

On the fourth night, O'brien changed everything. Before he overheard her and her new favourite maid gossiping away on the stairs, he could tell himself his dreams meant nothing more than a confusing mess of suppressed memories. His mind trying to escape the fear of Thomas's advances by turning them...more friendly so to speak. But then O'brien ruined it all.

"Mr. Barrow?" The housemaid hissed halfway up the servants stairs and Jimmy only just caught O'Brien's disbelieving glare as he stepped back into a dark corner. Never had he been so grateful he didn't have Alfred's lumbering stomp before.

"Of course, Thomas. Or didn't you know? He's a foul creature." Even in such whispered tones O'Brien sounded like a screeching witch. Jimmy loathes her from the bottom of his being he does. But...they were speaking about Thomas and as much as he'd loved to turn tail and run...Jimmy had to know. He just had to. Nothing would unglue his feet from his dark corner. Not even Mr. Carson if he was caught dawdling, which had been a worrying thought of its own.

"My," the maid had gasped, sounding utterly scandalised though Jimmy couldn't see her face. No, he could only see O'Brien's hideously triumphant snarl. "Mr. Barrow kissing some man in a dark Brixton back alley!"

Jimmy's heart had stopped. He couldn't have heard her right...but. It was Thomas. And Thomas kissed men. That was something one had to do in a dark alley...or in a dark bedroom...

Why was Jimmy thinking so much of it? He had the right mind to stalk away then but O'Brien's next words had pulled him back like a tight fist around his very heart.

"Not just any man! The personal vallet of a Lord visiting London."

"What Lord?" The maid leant into O'Brien so there noses must have be inches apart. Jimmy himself found he had squashed closer to the door. He was caught by a piece of gossip. Nothing else. He didn't care what Thomas was doing in London. He only cared for the tantalising scandal of it all. And that's was the end of that.

"Well, how would I know?" O'Brien suddenly murmured, all but revelling in the girl's interest. "But I know he did it. My cousin said they were at each other so hard Thomas knocked the other man's hat off!"

The maid let out a loud squeak at that and Jimmy couldn't have been more grateful for it. He didn't mean to gasp himself. But something about those words had acted like a punch to his gut, forcing all the air from his lungs.

"Then took his right time to pick it back up again for him, if you know what I'm saying..." O'Brien trailed off but if the annoyed twitch of her mouth was anything to go by, the maid didn't. People weren't supposed to know of such things, Acts like that were reserved for whores and sailors. 

O'Brien probably would have gone on to explain exactly what said whores and sailors do if not for Mrs. Hughes appearing at the bottom of the stairs with a stiff scowl.

Jimmy didn't need to hear it, however. He knew. He knew exactly what Mrs. O'Brien had implied. He barely remembers how long he remained in that corner. It could have been the whole evening, really. He didn't dare move, not until Mrs. Patmore had shut off the lights and shooed her kitchen maids to bed.

If he had, moved into the light of reality that is, he feared he might have started screaming in hysterics. For him, Jimmy Kent, mind fully awake and conscious intact, was fighting off the urge to imagine Thomas Barrow ravishing some Lord's valet in a back alley with his mouth.

-

He had truly passed out that night.

It didn't take long for the wicked dream to begin.

He had been in an alley, one like the night of his first dream. But only larger. Deeper. The buildings far higher and twisting down toward him like sinister monsters. He was horrified, for the first time. He felt so cold. So alone. Nothing but his own fear and the growing darkness to tear him apart.

But then he wasn't alone. An angel stood before him, it's light so bright it chased away the darkness with only a thought. At first Jimmy had believed it was his mother. What a fool he was.

No. It was no mother before him. No saint, for that fact either.

It was Thomas. It was always Thomas. The man stood high above Jimmy, a small smile over his features. The smile he had only saved for Jimmy. Even in his sleep then Jimmy had felt his gut twist.

Thomas was still glowing and Jimmy had soon realised why. The suit he wore was a stunning white. Everything from his tie to the glove adorned on his left hand was in a glistening pure fabric.

Jimmy couldn't help himself. How simple has it been to reach forward and curl his greedy hands in the lapels of Thomas's pristine jacket. The man had been so firm under his hands. A steady warmth that fought away Jimmy's chill in the blink of an eye.

The golden haired boy had pulled Thomas impossibly closer and closer. All he could feel was Thomas. His front pressed to the white of Thomas's. Steady hands had them framed his face, stormy grey eyes only inches away.

Jimmy wanted to beg. For what he hadn't been sure but the need was so crushing, so overwhelming he thought he might die if not for Thomas's presence. He was protected from the darkness. He was safe. But it hadn't felt enough. He needed more.

He had tried to speak, plead for his life. But his tongue was too heavy in his mouth. His words had sounded as if his head had been plunged underwater.

But then Thomas had spoken, husky words whispered right against Jimmy's ear. Sweet nothings they were. And Jimmy had lapped it up.

"Oh Jimmy, my darling boy. How charming you are. How needy. You'll be a good lad for me, won't you? Stay quiet for me?"

Jimmy had tried to say back anything for you but his mind was changed last minute. He had said only for a kiss. Or maybe he had only thought it and Thomas had heard anyway.

That smile had returned, the one that tore Jimmy's gut apart every time he saw it. He was breathing so hard then, the effort of it burning his lungs. It had felt like swallowing salt water the wrong way.

Then Thomas had kissed him and Jimmy felt as if he was waking up. As if he was allowed to breathe again. As if the darkness was never to return so long as Thomas's lips where pressed to his own.

He had whined like a starved kitten then, asking for more because it wasn't enough, and less because it was too much. There had been a sudden flash...and again Thomas was kissing him hard.

It no longer felt like kissing. It felt as if he was being devoured. His lips began to tingle and the hands he had forgotten were rested to his cheeks seared his skin. Too hot, so they then searched for his hair. Thomas knocked Jimmy's hat off. Had Jimmy been wearing a hat?

The grey storm clouds returned, staring at Jimmy right down to his being. As did that retched voice.

"Dear me, I'll just get that shall I?" Thomas's tone was as smooth as a fine whisky Jimmy had once been allowed to taste. Both had left a low hum in his chest for hours afterwards.

Thomas had knelt to the alley floor, reminding Jimmy where his fantasy was based. The thought of Thomas's fine suit being ruined in the harsh pavement had emerged from apparently nowhere and again Thomas had plucked the thought from Jimmy's mind.

"Don't you worry my dear boy. You're worth it."

Thomas's voice was suddenly a warm whisper over Jimmy's suddenly exposed member.

Jimmy remembers shaking. His knees had knocked together like he was a young boy all over again. Eventually his chest ached with the force of it.

He'd only ever been taken by someone's mouth once before. Lady Anstruther. She wasn't one for pleasuring Jimmy so much as she was one for Jimmy pleasuring her. But he'd been oh so good once, impressed some and mighty man with his charm. He'd earned the Lady a special deal for her young grandson or something silly like that. What Jimmy had to do with it he couldn't remember and he couldn't care.

He remembered her kneeling at his feet. Her dressing gown had slipped off her shoulders. Her lips were all red and spit slicked as they stretched over his length. She'd let him take his shoes off so he could feel the lovely carpet of her room under his toes. Suddenly, the image of the alley around him begun to melt away. Like it was giving in with a sigh to another scenery.

No. No. That was all wrong. That wasn't what he had wanted. What he had needed.

It was Thomas. He craved for the man to be at his feet. For dark pomaded locks to tangle in his fingers. For still rose red but thinner lips to take him to the base. Something the Lady couldn't do but Thomas was a saint at apparently. Distantly, Jimmy had felt his back arch for the tight wet heat. The alley was enclosing around them. Thomas bobbing faster and faster, his eyes had been suddenly black as night. Jimmy had been so close. The sensation had built and built.

Thomas. Thomas. Everything was Thomas.

And then Jimmy had slammed awake with a sob so loud and broken it could only ever be followed by another. And another. And another.

Alfred had charged into the room first, sleeping clothes all askew and freckled face flushed. Carson had been close behind, his gown barely tied and brows nearly to the roof.

"Jimmy...are you alright?" Alfred had startled the other footman with how soft his words came out.

Jimmy didn't reply then, at least not until the young man had taken a step toward him.

"No!" Jimmy had barked far harsher then he intended, but the warm stickiness over his pants shot terror through him. "Don't touch me."

The pair had obliged his order but made no move to leave the room. Instead they stood by the door, watching as Jimmy dragged in ragged breaths. They sounded as horrifying as a babe with a done-in lung.

"It-it's the war," Jimmy finally stuttered, reaching a hand out to ward the two away again, "I didn't see much of it. But I saw enough."

It was an easy lie to tell. He had had those sort of dreams for months after the war had taken his father. And nearly him for that matter. It was an easy lie. That's all he had to tell himself in that moment.

Still, it had been hard to meet either of their eyes. Especially Carson's. The butler had looked at him with such great pity it felt as if a bullet had gone straight through his chest. Coward, some evil part of his mind had whispered. He had used a soldier's terror to hide in his own filth. A coward he was.

To Jimmy's surprise however, Alfred appeared unconvinced. Or more like he wanted to go to Jimmy and help the man away from whatever it was that was chasing him. Real or not. Alfred wasn't a coward.

"If you need anything James..." Carson had abruptly mumbled, for once the old man had also appeared unsure of himself.

"I'll be fine," Jimmy urged back, his face had started to itch from the sweat pouring over it and he had just wanted the two men out.

"But thank you." He had continued, drawing a slight look of shock from the two. He had ignored their following grimaces in favour of uncomfortably shifting in his bed. His face wasn't the only part of him that had begun to itch from a sticky substance.

Carson had grabbed Alfred's arm then, trying to pull the young man away from his friend's bed. "Come now, Alfred. Well let James here rest.

Jimmy didn't miss their winces at the bitter laugh that statement brought from him. He had wanted to thank them again, but couldn't find the energy.

The second the door had shut behind his worried audience, James had begun to sluggishly heave himself from his bed.

It had felt as if it took the light of a thousand suns out of him to tear his ruined sleeping pants and sheets off.

He had lied there for the night, half naked and shivering, caked in his own seed and shaking with the effort to silence his sobs.

He had begged every god in the sky for hours into the morning light that the next night would not bring with it a glistening white suit and stormy eyes.

His prayers weren't answered.

Not that night. Or the next. After that he just didn't sleep.

-

 

So thats what what had brought about Jimmy's foul mood over breakfast that day. And that's why he's now cowering in a hallway fighting back both bile and tears.

How is he ever going to look Thomas in the eye again once he returns tonight?

 

Jimmy will not be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued.......maybe

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for that mess


End file.
